The Eighth Wonder
by Mecca
"You guys work on that and I'll be back," the teacher told the students. They gave silent acknowledgement.
The teacher walked to the Women's facility and went into the farthest stall from the wall. She locked the door behind her, though it felt pointless since the spaces between the door and walls of her stall were big enough to peek through. She tried to ignore it. She laid a sheet of the wax paper toilet cover on the seat and looked around as she pulled down her pants and white cotton panties to her lower thighs and sat. Her tanned well-formed buttcheeks spread against the seat. She put her elbows on her legs and held her chin in her hands as she stared at the door with delicate dark eyes. A translucent stream came from her urethra and weaned away. She crossed her arms on her legs and pushed. A little more urine poured out of her and she felt movement in her bowels. She looked down. She pushed again. Nothing happened. The clicking of heels was heard. She became silent as a woman peed, washed her hands and left.
Now that she was safe from others' ears, the teacher pushed again. She was a little worried about how long this might take. She hunched forward and pushed hard. The feces came towards the light a little. She was constipated.
She had to hurry or the students might figure out what she was doing. She blushed at the thought. It was such a dirty thing.
"C'mon," she said quietly while straining. "Oh please." She leaned forward and felt the heavy log move in small increments. She gave another huge push and she broke wind. A jet of gas bypassed the log making a "pooot" noise not unlike the rubbing of a rubber tube. She blushed, though no one was around. A woman ran in the room. The teacher hoped the woman couldn't smell her gas. The woman ran to the farthest stall and tugged on her door.
"In here!" the teacher said, embarrassed the loudness of her own voice. Now the woman probably knew who she was.
"Sorry, Stacy!" the woman called, confirming her fears as the woman found another stall. The woman peed loudly and left. Alone again, the teacher clenched her teeth, bore down and pushed. The log scratched her insides. Finally, the log stuck its head out. It hurt.
She breathed and tried again. Her perfect eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her cheekbones remained well-defined. She was truly a beautiful creature; a well-bred animal free from mars and kept neat and clean. She didn't have huge mammary glands, but they were sufficiently big, and her smile had been well taken care of. She wasn't muscular, but toned from her frequent trips to the treadmill. She didn't believe in too much makeup, just enough to look highlight her features. And she was pleasing to the opposite sex; not only was her proud, solemn stature mystically enticing, but her virginal, yet jocund deportment drove the males wild.
She patted her hair, trying to distract herself from the problem at hand. Nothing doing. She suddenly thrust into full push mode, and her bowel and buttock muscles contracted and tautened respectively while she gave a long grunt.
"Unnnngggghhh!" she grunted as her diaphragm and lungs momentarily stopped her breathing. Her passionate move moved her fecal mass out at an exponential velocity. It was thick in the beginning and it somewhat hurt. A small splashing noise was emitted as her brown butt log slid into the water.
She loosed a breath of relaxation. Another pack of processed food almost as long as the one before it, but less thick, crackled as it was passed easily by her. A turdlet slid out of her. Her colon was empty. She got up, wrapped her hand in several layers of toilet paper and wiped, front to back to be clean. The bad part was that her arsehole felt wet from the urine. She tried to resist looking at her mound of submarine excrement, but as usual, curiosity forced her head backwards. She looked at the logs, indifferent. They were partly down the hole.
Suddenly she grasped the situation. She, a beautiful and trim mammal, had not merely evacuated mere waste during a natural and everyday event; instead, she had demonstrated an amazing display of biological processing. What once was food became a part of her, strengthening her, and here lied the remains of what she didn't need. The stench and overall appalling nature of the event were natural, but offensive to polite society, and so they embarrassed her, while an amazingly exquisite and elegant beast such as herself need not be embarrassed of anything that she did, least of all this. She and her actions were to be cherished, at least by the opposite sex. This humanizing and humbling action made her animal again to the male race, no longer hidden from her clothing, makeup, complex understanding of abstract thought, and social concerns. Without them she was naked, primal and belonging outdoors. She had hair and skin and fat and teeth and blood and bones like any other mammal. This act made her a fine beast, and like all beasts having needs like bowel movements and, most importantly, sex.
Why indeed would she ever be ashamed of performing this act required of every single other animal? She didn't hide the fact that she ate to acquire nutrition. She didn't hide her respiration, timid that someone, especially a man, might see her excrete carbon dioxide into the air. No, the only actions she hid from the world were her excretions and sexual proclivities. The fact that she urinated, defecated, masturbated, and had sexual intercourse would never be revealed to anyone except her sex partners, if she had her way, and even then preferably only the last action. This fact bound these unassociated acts to make them forever part of her feminine mystique. If she showed someone her anus, even in a clinical setting, they would probably think of sex, in spite of any attempts to remain professional. If she allowed a man to pleasure himself in her anus, he would undeniably consider, if only for a moment, that she defecated from that same orifice. These actions were inexorably linked.
Males of her species always craved sex, and almost all of them would desperately perform any action within reason to learn the details of her sexual organs, or accounts of her sexual activity. The secrecy of these details ironically just made them all the more enticing. So it was only natural if some males were curious about the details of her evacuations: the size, shape, consistency, duration, frequency, and what it looked like when she performed these mysterious phenomena. She, a paragon of beauty and a living personification of youth and fertility, had executed one of these everyday miracles, in what could be considered a sexual act, especially to those males who acknowledged the links between the secrets of women. To them, it was as if she had just masturbated. This natural and necessary act could evoke arousal and sexual desire. Her shitting was sexy.
She looked at her scat in the bowl trying to remember what she was just thinking about. She dismissed any thoughts of it and looked at the toilet paper. Blood. She frowned. She wiped again and was clean. She pulled her clothing back up, washed her hands and walked back to the classroom. Everyone was quietly writing. She smiled and got to some work she had to get to. A boy looked up at her. He wondered where teachers go when they leave the class.